Monday, 18 June 2012

I fancy an ex-colleague –
who is recently married. Having a certain degree of morals, I found
it disconcerting to admit this to myself. Lacking further morals, I
continue to maintain a friendship with this man.

To do him credit, he
never makes "my wife doesn't understand me" type comments.
And he has never made a pass at me.

But.

He has a tendency to make
comments such as: "I sometimes just want a temptress to make me
do naughty things" (ok I'm paraphrasing here, but you get the
picture).

I am certainly not going
to be this temptress. A child of divorce myself, I don't fancy
running even the slightest risk of making a contribution to another
child's pain. So thankfully, we are safe – because he clearly does
not want to be the one to be in the wrong.

Absolve yourself of
any responsibility

I remember having a fling
with a man who was not married but did have a girlfriend. I remember
sexting him over a long period of time, and he would hint that he
would like our fantasies to become a reality. Like my married friend,
he was determined to be seduced, rather than be the seducer.

He said:

"I would love to
meet up with you. It would have to be an accident though, like we
just happen to bump in to each other somewhere, and one thing leads
to another..."

It is as though these men
forward think the scenario to when they are justifying themselves to
others. "She came on to me, what was I to do? I'm only a weak
man!" or "It just happened – we were drunk – it was a
mistake".

They are covering their
backs so that their lives can carry on as normal when they've decided
they've had enough of me - their throwaway plaything.

Selfish selflessness

I do have a conscience,
and the angel on my shoulder gently whispers admonitions whenever I
entertain fantasies involving my married friend. But there is another
reason for keeping my barriers up: self preservation.

By entering in to an
affair with a married (or otherwise attached) man, I am not only
opening myself up to the censure of those around me, but I am also
making myself vulnerable to heartache.

He would never leave her.
(And when my conscience is engaged I wouldn't want him to.) But he
would take my heart.

He would be able to have
all the security and stability of a family, but also drink up a
Peter-Pan-style elixir of youth by entering in to a
butterfly-inducing romance in the guise of a young, single man.

In the moments when we
are together, we would forget the other reality – the wife, the
home, the job and the family. We would be caught in our reality: the
sexy, carefree, refreshing allure of something new and exciting.
Amidst this forgetfulness, I would imagine that what we felt for each
other was true love.

When he goes back to his
wife and carries on with his real life, I will be left daydreaming of
when I will next see him again; the more time I have alone, the more
my fantasies will consume me. My life would become about him, and
then I would be neither free to enter in to a different relationship
with more potential, nor able to move our own pitiful excuse for a
relationship forward.

A resolve

So I must rejoice in this
man's lack of conviction; the power of my own happiness – as well
as that of others - is in my hands. Perhaps I too had been hoping to
be seduced, to be able to have the excitement but deny responsibility
for taking it. But I do have a responsibility – to walk away from
our friendship. Because this isn't friendship at all – it's
foreplay.

Friday, 8 June 2012

I think I must be
emotionally immature: I have a tendency to focus on the physical
appearance of a man and my physical feelings towards him, and then
feebly attempt to build up a relationship from there.

I have recently joined a
dating site, and find myself browsing through the men as though they
are a list of products in a catalogue. I flick through impatiently
until something pretty catches my eye. My internal monologue as I
accept or reject "matches" goes something like this:

Bald... No.

Glasses... No.

Old... No.

Buck teeth... No.

Ginger... No.

Black and white posed
photo of a good looking man... He looks like he could be the one...

I'm obviously punching
above my weight

Because when I add these
last category of guys to my "favourites", or whatever it is
one does as a cyber equivalent to smiling, I get "viewed"
but never selected as a favourite in return. And when I look at who
does like me, the list includes: the bald one, the
bespectacled one, the old one, the buck teeth one and the ginger.

So, reluctantly, I check
them out. As I click through the photos, I cringe more and more. How
could I be attracted to any of these men when there are so many hot
guys out there?

But what if....

I read a profile and
imagine that a good looking man has written it – my heart
starts fluttering with feelings of innate compatibility. But then I
take another glance at the photo and the butterflies turn to lead. I do not feel excited looking at this man.

When I get a text from a
Geek who is interested in me, I huff with impatience at his
neediness, feeling stifled and pressured. In general, this sort of
reaction has led to a belief that women like me want a Bad Boy –
someone who will "treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen".

But again, I close my
eyes and I use my imagination: the man who has just text me is that
really hot guy from the pub the other night... I read the text again
as though my fantasy is true – and suddenly I don't feel so stifled
anymore. In fact, I feel tremblingly excited – I can even feel my
cheeks glowing.

So it's not that I don't
want to be doted on. It's that I want to be doted on by someone who
excites me.

Surrender

I have never particularly
considered myself to have a "type", rather a set of (what
is increasingly looking impossible) criteria: incredibly good
looking, intelligent, deep, fun, masculine, sensitive, happy,
independent, doting....

In her book, The Surrendered Single, Laura Doyle argues that this kind of criteria prevents a woman from really being open to love.
She suggests accepting dates from anyone, on the basis that until you
fall in love you can't possibly know if someone is right for you.

Deciding to follow this
advice, I went on a date with a Geek. I determined on seeing all the
positives and dismissing the negatives. I enjoyed the conversation,
he was a gentleman, and I had a nice time.

But between that date and
our second date, the negatives kept niggling away at my mind. I
didn't fancy him. It wasn't just that he wasn't as impossibly
good-looking as my unrealistic ideal; he almost repulsed me. He
was boy-like in many ways: inexperienced, unconfident, frequently
talked about his mother... I couldn't envisage enjoying his touch
or laughing with abandon while we do something crazy.

So I went to our second
date feeling completely uptight, but trying my best to be all smiles
and pleasant conversation. Having once decided he repulsed me, I
began to really dislike his company. His nervous laugh grated on me,
his awkwardness stressed me out. I could not wait to get away.

I'm ashamed of myself for
these feelings. I feel cruel. There is nothing wrong with this man's
heart; he is honest, sincere, warm, friendly and generous. But I felt in my gut that dating him was like giving in to desperation.

Onwards and...?

Having said that, going
out with GeekBoy1978 has done me a big favour; I am now
looking through the other online profiles with a more positive view:

Bald... but has similar
taste in music.

Glasses... but that
comment he made about grapes is hilarious!

Old... but check out
those manly arms...

Buck teeth... but so
intelligent.

Ginger... but otherwise
very very cool.

If I knew who the right
man for me was, the chances are I'd be with him already. So if I can
open my mind just a little, then maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised.
GeekBoy1978 wasn't the one, but maybe OldManBigGuns will be...

Friday, 25 May 2012

I
have a male friend – more an acquaintance - who delights in telling
me, with scathing glee, the shameful details of women's pitiful
come-ons. Now, before I continue I want to make it clear that these
judgements are what I perceive his
to be, and definitely are not my own.

One instance went
something like this:

"Oh
that Hayley, she's a bit full-on! She
was pressing herself up against me, grinding against my crotch."

Another time, he spoke of
a girl who came on to his friend:

"She was like, 'your
place or mine', and we were like, 'neither!'"
[sniggerguffawchortle nudgewink]

Putting
aside the actions of these women, (and trying my absolute hardest not
to get drawn in to wondering what these men say about me
behind my back...) I would like to analyse this man's motivation a
little. I can think of several possible reasons for so publicly
shaming these women (and I'm sure there are more that I haven't even
thought of):

Boasting

Would it be too much of a
bold declaration to say that anyone
would be flattered by such come-ons? Maybe these comments were made
to me – and perhaps others – as a way of saying: "I am
desirable. I am attractive." They certainly were said with a
strutting aura, chest puffed proudly out in a thoroughly cock-a-hoop
manner.

To
inspire competitiveness

Perhaps this particular
man gets kicks out of turning women on each other, so that they each
give him their positive attention. Perhaps he was trying to imply –
imply but not declare mind you – that the attentions of other women
were unsolicited, beyond his control, whereas his attentions to me
were of his choosing. I don't mean to say that he favoured me over
these other women – more that he meant to highlight to me my
'rival' and set me a challenge to better her.

Discomfort

There is a chance, of
course, that my friend simply felt uncomfortable with the behaviour
of these women, and needed some way of releasing this discomfort - in
the same way that girls sometimes bitch about their friends when they
are feeling insecure themselves. Perhaps being in receipt of overtly
sexual behaviour was intimidating, and injured his sense of decency.
Maybe he wanted to disassociate himself – not only with the women
in question – but also with behaviour that he felt did not
represent his own values.

Perhaps he is one of
those men who – whatever he might say publicly – secretly feels
that women who come on to men are somehow defying their nature, and
transgressing from acceptable behaviour. Perhaps he subconsicouly
feels emasculated: it is for him to act, to move, to enter.

To
be perfectly honest, I haven't got a fucking clue.

And does anyone?

I
see in so many magazines, blogs, TV shows, sweeping generalisations
about "what men (or women) really
want". On his website - gettheguy.co.uk – dating guru Matthew
Hussey says: "when you’re out with your
friends do not laugh excessively at every joke men make, dance too
sexily or get too drunk!" (Well
that's me fucked then – and not in the literal sense.)

Personally, I think these
generalisations are a load of bullcrap.

When I was growing up,
reading teen magazines, I was convinced that "boys don't like
girls who wear too much make-up". Now, while I am certain that
this is true of some/many men, I know others that definitely prefer a
woman who "takes care of herself".

Similarly, there must be
some men out there who would love it for a woman to go up to
them and grind against their crotch, and when Hayley meets one of
these men it might be happy-ever-after for her. In the meantime, I
hope she remains blissfully unaware of the dishonourable judgements
that are made of her.

Having said that, in my
own mission to be more aware of the perceptions of others, I am going
to be guarded about my approach to men - by, well, not
actually approaching them - and then I'll see if any of them really
do have the balls they supposedly wish women didn't have.

Sunday, 13 May 2012

So,
I kissed a male friend a few weeks ago. We were drunk. We were out
with our bunch of friends. We were sat next to each other,
affectionately leaning on one another, we looked at each other...
smiled... kissed. Just a little snog. It was nice.

Now,
I can be truthful, because I am open and agenda free. I like this
guy, I think he's hot. I would snog him again if I thought he wanted
to. But I can also very comfortably (in other words, without feeling
rejection or heartache) maintain a completely non-sexual friendship
with him.

But something somewhere
has gone wrong. I'm not sure exactly what, but I think one of the
following phrases might have been triggered in his mind:

Prick-tease

Easy

Bunny
Boiler

Prick-tease

I didn't sleep with him.
I didn't invite him home with me when I left shortly afterwards. Was
there an expectation that I would? Does a woman these days need to
have a pre-snog agreement stating clearly what might and might not
happen? Was I considered under an obligation to make him come? I
certainly got this impression from a muttered (inaudible) comment in
a contemptous tone.

Easy

Now here I must confess
that two weeks later, seeing no prospect of further
affection/romance/sexiness with my friend, I snogged a friend of his.
Was this an insult to Snoggee Number One? Was I too free with my
tongue? Did I cheapen myself? Is it sluttish to snog two men within a
month of each other? Perhaps more sluttish if they are friends...

Bunny
Boiler

I made every conscious
effort to continue my friendship with Snoggee Number One as "normal"
– to be no more or less flirty than I normally would be. I did text
to say that I liked the snog (without receiving any response at all),
but I didn't ask for anything more. And yet when I saw him in a group
of friends and gave him attention (a chat, a cuddle), I got a feeling
that he was trying to brush me off.

The
rant begins...

Read those three terms
again. What nasty, shitty little phrases to describe women! And how
impossible for a single woman to avoid all three! It was only a kiss!
Why does it have to mean anything? If I had managed to avoid the
label of 'prick-tease' by sleeping with him, then I would
automatically have gained the accolade of 'easy'. And simply by
trying to maintain a friendship I have opened myself up to the charge
of being a needy Bunny Boiler.

If a man can casually
snog a woman without being a fanny-tease, easy or needy, why can't
the same nonchalance be attributed to the woman?

And yet I felt whispers
and sniggers behind my back when I was out with my group of friends
last. WTF? It feels like I am 15 again, rather than being a little
over twice that age. Sure, I realise that I can, could have (should
have?) controlled my own actions, and having failed to do so must
reap the consequences. But it's pretty fucking frustrating first of
all to not be able to just shrug it off and for everyone to get over
it, and second to not even know which particular brand of contempt
Snoggee holds me in – the prick-tease brand, the easy brand or the
bunny-boiler brand.

Yes, I am a grown woman,
and I ought to just bite the bullet and ask. But you see my coffin is
made – and my headstone is inscribed – and whatever my words or
actions now, they will be interpreted with that inscription as an
explanation.

Whatever
happened to romance?

In
her blog "the problem with slut-bashing" Justine Musk writes about an American term 'dinner whore', which is basically a
woman who goes out for dinner with a guy then doesn't sleep with him.
Er... as Justine says: "I
think we used to call that a date."

What happened to just
going with the flow? Why does a woman have to make a commitment; to
sex, a relationship, whatever, before anything has even happened? I'm
scared even to admit to fancying someone because I know the people
around me will react with certain expectations.

I almost feel like
writing on my forehead: "If I kiss you, it is because I find you
attractive. However, I will not have sex until I feel it is right.
Should you decide before this time that you are not interested, your
rabbit will be quite safe."

I will check my
own behaviour. I will be more careful how I come across to others
(perhaps snogs are for private, not to be undertaken in a room full
of people).

But I will also hold my
head up high when I am poorly judged, knowing that I am: